Black No 1
by Valkyrien
Summary: She's in love with herself... She likes the dark...


_**DISCLAIMER: I own neither Type O Negative, Black No. 1, nor any characters portrayed... But one day, Pete, one day...**_

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_**~ Black No. 1~**_

'_She's in love with herself – she likes the dark...'_

He looked in on her doing her makeup at her mirror, illuminated only be candles, the soft light casting shadows over her flawless skin even as she painted them on.

'_On her milk-white neck, the Devil's mark...'_

Tonight her favoured black velvet-strung silver ankh was set aside for a red satin ribbon hung with a silver inverted cross that glinted in the soft glow emitted by the candles.

'Now it's All Hallows Eve, the moon is full –

_Now will she trick or treat? I bet she will.'_

Halloween was their collective favourite holiday. They'd all go out trick or treating together and then they'd come back to the house to watch old vampire movies. But tonight was different somehow.

'_She's got a date at midnight with Nosferatu._

_Oh baby Lily Munster ain't got nothing on you._

_Well when I called her evil she just laughed._

_Now cast that spell on me, boo bitch craft.'_

Her dress was an incredibly vampy black cotton number, slinky, full length with a deep neck and two cut out ovals spanning from just under her breasts to the two inches below her hipbone that would reveal whether or not she was wearing panties with all certainty. Two long slits ran from her upper thighs to the bottom of the dress on either side, making her sway even more noticeable when she walked.

"I gotta say, luv – ya really pull out all the stops on Halloween, eh? I ain' seen anythin' this evil in a long time..." She turned sparkling eyes to him and laughed, voice a heaven of throaty delight. He looked her over with a profound admiration on his face and she smiled.

"Thought I'd be a devil, didn't you?" she teased, and he grinned.

"No chance luv. You're a witch through an' through, have ta be ta spellbind a bloke the way you do."

"What bloke?" she asked, lacing her right platform heeled boot. They were PVC sheaths reaching to her knees and adding six inches to her heaight.

"Well, this one fer starters," he said seriously, and she looked up at him from the bent position she was standing in, one foot on her dressing table chair.

"Stop teasing me John – I just love dressing up like this!"

"I know, luv. Ya know, the moon's out and it's windy outside – pourin' down too. Perfect Halloween weather!" Her delighted smile crowned her glory.

"Then let's get out of here!"

'_Yeah ya wanna go out, 'cause it's rainin' and blowin',_

_Ya can't go out 'cause your roots are showin' – _

_Dye 'em black!_

_Dye 'em black!'_

They were on the bed watching Nosferatu slowly descend on his innocent victim and eating their candy, the candles' light making her hair shine a deep, sinful, inky black.

"You dye all that luv?" Her attenton diverted from the screen, she turned her face towards him, fingers halfway through the motion of popping a sherbet into her mouth.

"My hair? Nope. Just the red."

"So ya don' have a bunch of black dye in little boxes tucked away somewhere?" She laughed at the obvious tease, shaking her head, and bowed it for his inspection.

"See those highlights? And the roots? Six hundred and sixty-six percent natural black - darkness from within," she laughed, the cosmetics-commercial tone of her statements making the words surreal. Intrigued, he buried a hand in the shining tresses, shivering slightly at the way the silken stuff felt between his fingers. The black of it pulled him in, enticing, and he let himself play with it for a moment longer before he nodded, distracted.

"Yeah, no way that came outta no box, luv," he said thickly. She raised herself again, the black ink of her hair parting in waves around her perfect white face as she grinned.

"What about you?" she teased, and he shrugged. The hand he had let fall from her hair burnt with a fire he knew all too well.

"Me luv?" She nodded, poking his chest.

"You, St. John Allerdyce!" His full name spoken in her throaty voice made him feel ridiculously needy.

"No boxes tucked away? Indeterminable Orange No.1?" she asked, lifting her hand to ruffle his hair, and he shook his head, trying to ignore the slight scraping he knew was her fingernails, long and painted a scarlet you could drown souls in. It matched the hue of her full, tempting lips.

"No way luv. Can' ya see this is one hundred percen' Pyro?"

"Not an aviation redhead then?" she giggled, and he rolled his eyes, a smile playing about his lips, but suddenly she had him on his back and his Tshirt lifted up, her fingers tracing the trail of fine hair that dipped into the slight cleft between his jeans and his taut, muscled stomach, disappearing.

"Bloody hell Wanda!" he yelped, and she laughed at him.

"Nope, looks real enough! Oh, and sorry for calling you a redhead – I don't think there's any specification for that colour," she added, and he raised an eyebrow, determined that she should not see the extent of his feeling in the current position they were in, him flat on his back, her bent over him with her hand on his bare stomach.

"Couldn' jus' take my word for it?" he asked flatly, and she smoothed her fingers over his hip bone.

"Where's the balance in that? You got to touch so I did too. Fair's fair," she laughed, and he rolled his eyes again and lifted a hand to rest on her own hip.

"Never touched ya there, luv. Now we're even!" he said, and she scowled.

"I don't think so," she shot back, moving her hand up from his hip to caress the upper regions of his chest, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm sensin' an imbalance here," he said slowly,

"Correct me if I'm wrong." She shook her head.

"No, you're perfectly on score. You owe me," she said, her eyes flashing, and he kept his eyes on her face as he slid his own hand up under her shirt to her own chest which was bare under the soft back cotton, and she closed her eyes for a moment as his fingers emulated hers, a dark smile flitting over the lips he had been admiring only moments ago.

"Oh, would you look at that," she remarked lightly, as she undid his jeans and slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.

"I believe we're out of balance again... you owe me, John..."

'Black, black, black, black – No. 1!

_She dyes 'em black – black, black, black, black – Black No. 1!_

_Lovin' you..._

_Lovin' you-ou..._

_Lo', lovin' you..._

_Was like..._

_Lovin' the dead..._

_Was like lovin' the dead!_

_Lovin' you was like lovin' the dead!_

_Lovin' you was like lovin' the dead!_

_Lovin' you was like lovin' the dead!_

_Was like lovin' the de-ead!_

_Was like lovin' the de-ead!_

_Was like lovin' the dead...'_


End file.
